


Old Telepath, New Purr

by ShapeShiftersandFire



Series: Telepurrthy AU [7]
Category: Wolverine And The X-Men (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, Telepurrthy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 11:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShapeShiftersandFire/pseuds/ShapeShiftersandFire
Summary: Follow up to "Not In This Life," in which Selene's ability to purr emerges full-force and reminds her of some things she would much rather have forgotten.





	Old Telepath, New Purr

**Author's Note:**

> 'what up, i'm selene, i'm seventeen thousand years old, and i never fuckin' learned how to purr'

Her throat is on fire. Selene wakes coughing, struggling for breath, grasping at her neck. Her throat spasms painfully. An attempt to drink water results in more choking, more coughing, more discomfort. Her eyes water, she can’t clear her throat.

_I can’t breathe—_

_Gods above, what is this?_

_Why can’t I—_

_\--breathe—_

Selene sits up, gasping for breath. Her chest is tight, her throat closed, she can’t—

\-- _BREATHE—_

_Can’t think, can’t focus—_

_FEAR—_

The scream Selene wants to let out is cut off by a spasm in her throat. She recognizes the bolt of cold, unbridled fear in her chest, she’s felt it once before—and there was—

_Blood_

_Oh gods there was so much **blood—**_

**_BLOOD—_ **

_The bleeding wouldn’t stop_

_The **pain wouldn’t stop—** wouldn’t go away—wouldn’t stop—stopstopstopSTOP_

_MAKE IT STOP—_

She can’t scream, can’t scream, can’t scream, choking, bleeding—

\-- _oh gods it’s everywhere—_

_\--IT HURTS—_

_\--HELP—_

_BloodpainfearpainOHGODSIT **HURTS**_

She can’t breathe—can’t—

She’s on the floor, the sheets tangled around her legs—she needs to breathe—she needs help—

Selene stumbles ~~crawls~~ to the door. Her vision’s spotty, her legs hurt, everything hurts. She can’t breathe, can’t see, it hurts, hurts, _hurts—_ can’t walk—her legs are too shaky—

_Emma!_

It doesn’t matter why that’s the first name she draws on or where it came from, it’s a name, there’s a person behind it, there’s _help._

She blinks—or maybe the moments pass that quickly—and there’s Emma, asleep, but so close, she’s _there—_

_EMMA—_

She’s on the floor before she can even get that near the bed. She stares at the bedframe, so close, so close, so close— _Emma, Emma, Emma—_

_\--please help me!—_

_Can’t get up, can’t get up—_

Why is she so hot? Is she hot? She’s sweating, it’s so _cold._

Her legs hurt so bad—

She can’t breathe—

There’s water coming from her eyes. She’s… _crying?_

_Selene?_ Goddess of the moon, Black Queen of the Inner Circle? _Crying?_

But it’s the least of her worries, when her throat is tight, her chest hurts, her legs hurt, she’s on fire, she’s freezing, her hands—why are they so jittery—where’s Emma?— _Emma!_

She manages, somehow, to force herself up, to hobble to the bed, and she collapses

Emma screams—“ _Selene?”_

“ _Hel-p—”_

Emma’s hands are cold on her skin—too cold? Just cold enough?

“Selene,” her voice is near and distant all at once, her face blurry and circled in black, “Selene, look at me, look at me.”

She tries, but it’s so hard.

“It’s all right, Selene, you’re all right. I’ve got you. Slow your breathing. Steady. Good.” She rattles off instructions Selene only partially hears. Is she following them? She thinks so.

After a moment, an hour, she doesn’t know, her vision clears, her breathing slows. She’s cold, drenched in sweat, exhausted, and—

Emma’s hands are on her—one rubbing circles on her back, the other holding Selene’s hand. Her smooth English-accented voice drifts into her ears—“You’re all right, Selene. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“Emma—”

“Shh. Shh. Relax. Focus on my voice. _Relax._ ”

And she does. She relaxes.

(But she’s still got an iron grip on Emma’s hand—not that she’ll ever admit it.)

And they stay like that for a while. Selene’s breathing eases. The pain fades. She blinks, her eyes are crusted with dried tears. But she’s better.

“ _Emma—_ ”

“Easy, Selene.”

_I need her to listen. Help me._ She tries to say it all at once, but it comes out as a string of incoherent babbling—“ _Hurts, can’t breathe—"_

“One thing at a time,” Emma says gently, and after another while, “Tell me what happened.”

“I couldn’t breathe,” Selene says, and from there she’s not thinking as the rest comes out, in one stream of consciousness: the pain, the fear, the blood, all of it, and Emma doesn’t bat an eye, her rhythm doesn’t change. She sits there and listens.

And when it’s all out, Selene still lies there, cold and shaking and gripping Emma’s hand with all the strength she has left. And then—her throat twitches. She coughs, tenses—her breathing falters—and coughs again. Her throat burns. She gasps for breath. “What is this?”

“Easy, Selene,” Emma says. “It’s all right.” She pulls Selene a little closer and, both to Selene’s frustration and confusion, starts purring.

The sound, the faint vibration running into Selene’s body from Emma’s, triggers that same throat-burning, choking sensation.

_The trees—_

_Blood—_

_HURTS—_

Selene shoves Emma away, everything comes back in vivid detail, her legs are burning, she’s bleeding, bleeding, it’s everywhere—she’s never curled up this tight—

_Make it go away!—_

\---and she’s crying—

“Look at me.” It’s Emma’s voice, firm yet gentle, the cold of her hands on her face, wiping the tears from her eyes, snaps Selene back to the present. She’s okay, she’s alive—gasping for breath but alive—there’s no blood, that’s—not Aman—Emma looking down at her. “Look at me, Selene. It’s your purr. You’re trying to purr.”

Selene finds her breath, her mind clears. Purr? “No, I do _not—"_

“It seems you do now,” Emma says, and Selene shudders. She hates this, all of it. She tries to remind herself to wipe the experience from Emma’s mind in the morning, but the thought is quickly squashed by more important thoughts and matters—most notably that her throat is contracting again. She falls into a strangled, coughing fit.

Emma doesn’t let go. She grips Selene’s hands as tightly as she can manage, and Selene can’t deny the relief she feels at having someone around to guide her through this.

_If she’d had someone around when the wolves sang—_

_NO—_

_“Help me._ ” Two words she’s never uttered with such desperation in her seventeen millennia on this earth come out with such ease, such desperation, not even _then._ (There wasn’t anything to give her flashbacks about _then_.) _Please help me._

Emma nods, wiping the tears from Selene’s eyes again. “I will. But you need to relax. And you need to trust me.”

Desperation is a strong force, one Selene is familiar with in various forms of personal experience. This marks the second time she’s ever had it take control of her. This time, there’s no plan. She just wants it to be over. “ _Yes.”_

One hand grips Selene’s, the other Emma tucks behind Selene’s head, fingers buried in her hair. Her hands are still cold; but there’s something else that makes Selene shiver. Emma’s mind pokes at her own, gently, lightly, not searching as much as it is travelling, putting them memories back into place as it travels along some line Selene didn’t even know she had. But it helps. She relaxes.

And then, sparked somewhere underneath Emma’s hand on her head and rising in her throat, comes a rumbling. It doesn’t feel low like Emma’s, but somewhat higher, and the effect it has on her is like nothing she’s ever known.

The memories fade to black. Her breathing eases. Her adrenaline stops rushing and, in its place, comes exhaustion, hard and heavy. Any attempt at opening her eyes is for naught—she’s too drained to keep them open long, if she can at all.

She stops fighting. She’s too tired to fight.

(She’d rather purr.)

She’s even too tired to realize that Emma’s hand has come away and she’s retreated from Selene’s mind. The purring in her throat is all her own. And with every note it relaxes her further. So much so that she doesn’t feel the sheets being adjusted around her, and she’s only vaguely aware that there’s someone lying next to her.

Her own purring and the warmth of Emma’s arms around her lulls her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i still don't know how fitzroy got selene into the spooler but here we are i guess (i have various theories and none of them are serious, ex 'hey can you tell me if this hurts')
> 
> also yes i know i merged some timelines here but it's fine
> 
> also also i really like that after the whole spooling incident selene doesn't wear anything that shows her legs for a while, it's like a really subtle touch of character development, like she doesn't want anyone to see her scars and i think that's fantastic (not sure if that's what they were going for but that's what i got out of it so)


End file.
